Royal Bastard
by Hatmaker
Summary: Realising just who her fellow warden is, Elissa Cousland is determined to make him king in order to avenge her family and overthrow Loghain and Howe. Yet while her family name and upbringing, coupled with her sheer determination might be enough to sway the landsmeet, the royal bastard has ploys of his own. Alistair/Cousland (fem.)
1. Chapter 1

"Why send us away? It was as if they didn't want us with them?" Alistair muttered to the small campfire. Though his physical recovery from the attack had been swift, it was clear that he was still deeply affected by the loss of Duncan and Cailan. Something in the question stirred his companion, however, though he was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice.

They had been sent away. In fact, Duncan and Cailan had both been adamant that the two of them would stay out of harm's way. Anyone should have been able to light the signal, it made no sense to put two wardens to the task, given that at the time they had not known that the tower was overrun.

Elissa Cousland watched her fellow warden in silence. He had seemed familiar even when they first met, something she couldn't quite place her finger on. The tilt of his jaw, or the angle of his nose; she had seen those before, yet she hadn't quite been able to place them.  
There was no doubt that she had never encountered Alistair himself, a Templar recruit would have no business in Highever – and certainly none that would cross paths with the Teyrn's daughter. She had assumed Duncan had put her aside from the battle in an effort to honor his promise to her parents, and in order to not lose a recruit to the first onslaught of darkspawn. Sending Alistair along with her to either keep an eye on her or as a backup.

But maybe she hadn't been the center of attention at all. Maybe the real reason was to keep Alistair safe and sound. She suddenly realized why he seemed so familiar. His face – or at least his likeness – was engraved on every sovereign. He was merely a bath, a fresh outfit and a confident pose away from being Cailan's doppelganger.

She had heard rumors, of course, of a bastard prince, though she had not paid much heed to them. Highever had never had use for such schemes, and she had never had much interest in gossip. Yet there it was. The bastard prince was a grey warden, along with the only known survivor of the Cousland line. Seeing as Queen Anora had never produced an heir, between them they were not only the only grey wardens left in Ferelden, but the last of the two most influential noble houses.

The political weight of her situation made her queasy, years of schooling momentarily overshadowing the pain and loss from the past days with the impact of recognition. That same schooling mercifully tempered the horror with purpose: she could defeat Loghain and Howe; if indeed they could convince this Arl Eamon to hold a landsmeet she might put Alistair forward as king. He would have a better claim to the throne than Loghain, perhaps even better than Anora.

If she were to make Howe pay it wouldn't hurt to have the king on her side.

She caught Morrigan looking at her, the witch's expression hinting at both surprise and approval. While she doubted Morrigan could read thoughts, she guessed her own expression must have betrayed some of her plotting. That the witch approved of her callousness was no surprise; from the stories of the Witches of the Wild they were pragmatical to the core. If Alistair could be deployed towards her own ends, Morrigan would not hesitate a second.

With a pang of guilt Elissa chided herself for her egotism, as she spotted Alistair sneak the cuff of his shirt across his eye, pretending to wipe away dirt and sweat from their travel. It was wrong to use him, yet what else could she do. Everything was wrong in this world.

Her mabari hound huffed indignantly at her feet, as if challenging that train of thought, moving from her to the campfire and dropping his enormous body beside Alistair.

The warden absently petted his head, forgetting momentarily his earlier timidness in the beasts company, content to receive the small comfort offered. "What's his name?" He asked, and Elissa opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it again with an inexplicable blush.

"Bastard." She coughed. The silence was deafening. Even Morrigan found nothing to say, her composure momentarily forgotten. "He was named Bastard. The Kennel Master was furious when he discovered one of the dogs had managed to… elope. He would have put the resulting pup down, in his zealousness, but my mother intervened, and long story short I raised him on my own. But the name stuck."

Alistairs shoulders seemed to sag, as he lowered his guard a little, but he kept his attention on the dog rather than his companions. "I think I could sympathize." He murmured, and Bastard woofed softly, resting his head against his leg.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they left Lothering their small group had more than doubled in size, and Alistair wasn't certain what to think of it. While he was glad for a moments respite from Morrigan's taunts, he did not trust the Qunari nor Eliana. The dwarves were only a tad better, but at least they didn't seem overly dangerous.

But he had chosen not to lead, leaving that burden to Elissa by omitting the decisions, and so he knew that complaining would be of little use. To be fair, both Sten and Leliana pulled their own weight, and he had to admit they would hardly have enlisted the Dalish quite so quickly without their help. So he held his tongue, but kept his eyes open.

Leliana strolled up to him with a bowl of stew; her culinary skills were a major credit to the group, and sat down beside him, her own bowl balanced on top of her knee as she glanced across the camp. "So," She said, her smile unreadable. "Are all grey wardens of noble blood, or is that a Ferelden specialty?"

He nearly choked, coughing and sputtering at her question; trying to deflect her with a less than convincing "I have no idea what you are talking about."  
She merely arched a brow at him as her smile deepening into that unreadable murk he had so hated among the chantry sisters. "Oh. Silly me." She pardoned, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I was so sure, you know. The likeness really is striking."

"Well, you must have been mistaken." Alistair all but growled, but Leliana seemed only amused. "Is that so? Yes, I suppose you are right. It's just that I was so certain of it." She sighed. "And it would have made for such a wonderful song. The passion, the drama. -Elissa Cousland, daughter of the Teyrn of Highever and the last survivor of her bloodline. Turned Grey Warden, on the run from the Regent and still rallying troops to fight the Blight. Don't you think?" She asked sweetly, amusement evident in her eyes as she saw Alistair's dumbfounded expression. "But you are right. I must be mistaken."

Before he could muster anything to say, Leliana rose to her feet, moving over to sit by the dwarves.

Alistair was no fool. Secrets held power. Disclosing secrets held perhaps even more. And Leliana had expertly disclosed two: The first; that she knew who he was, and then the second; that she knew who Elissa was – which he had not.

Stealing a glance at his fellow Warden, who was speaking in hushed tones with Morrigan, he felt like an idiot. When she spoke of Highever and her family he had not realized that she was the Teyrn's daughter. It had simply never occurred to him that the woman in front of him, Duncan's latest recruit, was from one of the most powerful houses in all of Ferelden. Only Cailan himself had held higher rank than her father, in terms of nobility.

She should have been living in luxury in Castle Cousland, yet here she was, sleeping in a ragged camp by the roadside, trekking through mud and fighting both darkspawn and common bandits. He had always assumed that she was an outcast like him, yet while he had been born an outsider she had lived to see everything she loved destroyed.  
It should have destroyed her, yet there she was, fulfilling her duty as a grey warden and taking on the responsibility as group leader, hardly even given time to mourn. As he pieced together the bits of her past and the achievements of her present Alistair concluded that Elissa Cousland was the stuff of legend.

As he forced himself to look away he noticed her dog watching him with an almost eerily knowing look. Bastard said nothing, however, and Alistair withdrew to his own tent, his mind going over the various implications of his new discovery.


	3. Chapter 3

Leliana watched the two wardens with interest from her perch atop Bodhan's wagon. The dwarf seemed glad to have her keep him company, as they shared talk and gossip of everyday matters, a pleasant distraction from the gravity of their situation.

He had no idea that the grey wardens were anything more, but could hardly have approved more of them even if he did. To him they were already heroes, and Leliana suspected the affairs of human nobility didn't matter much to the dwarf.

It did however, matter to Leliana. Not only because she was in personal need of an employer with power to keep her safe, vision or not. And while she hadn't been travelling with them for long she had grown fond of the wardens, almost regarding them like a substitute family. She had nobody else; the chantry didn't want her unless she backed down on her claim that the vision was from the Maker, her family was long dead and Marjolaine… well.

Leliana sighed, pushing that thought away. It wouldn't do to dwell on the past. Better to keep her attention towards the future. The thought of the Blight terrified her, and while she knew that her present company meant she was in even greater danger from the darkspawn, it also felt… right. Perhaps this was what the vision had meant, to be both lost and found in darkness. She couldn't tell.

Yet if there was even the slightest chance that they could survive this, then she was going to do her part. And among the things she had realized she could do to repay the Grey Wardens was utilizing her talent as a bard. Not that Elissa needed much help in regards of neither politics nor diplomacy; she was as skilled as a Master Bard. Save the assassinations. But then again, Elissa would probably manage those too, if needed.

Alistair, however, would be sorely unprepared for the schemes at court. He had not learned to live the Game as they had. While he had a good heart, and was not nearly as dim as he tried to pass himself off as, he was too easily manipulated or outmaneuvered. There was potential, though. He was trying, as he seemed aware of his shortcomings. Leliana would help if she could.

Perhaps outing Elissa's secret to him had been wrong towards the other woman, but Leliana had seen no better approach. It seemed obvious to her that the two wardens had more than enough to cope with without adding untold secrets – needlessly untold secrets – to the pile. She had aired those skeletons from their respective closets in the hopes that it would spur either one of them into action.

She would be damned if Elissa Cousland hadn't tried figuring out a way to replace Loghain and Anora with Alistair, and the man might be more easily persuaded to take up the mantle if convinced there was a single noble worth his time.

The tactic had proved somewhat successful; she had eyed Alistair nervously approach the other warden several times as they neared Redcliffe, but each time his nerves had got the better of him, and he had made a humorous remark or answered some idle question instead. Still, there was progress.

From her vantage point, Leliana had noticed something else too, which she was currently considering how best to weave into her plans. It was almost unnoticeable, easily overlooked, and the two of them seemed oblivious to it. When first she noticed she thought perhaps she was reading too much into it, but as the day wore on the thought solidified from a fleeting thought to conviction.  
There was something brewing between the two, a small kindling of affection beyond that of their fellowship as wardens. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lip as she noticed how Elissa had unthinkingly raised her hand to help Alistair brush off some of the dust and grime, only to catch herself, her fingers pausing momentarily in mid-air, before changing their direction and awkwardly patting Bastard on his broad back instead.

Alistair seemed not to have noticed, preoccupied with muttering under his breath and cursing every rotten, spider-infested ruin in all of Ferelden as he tried to get rid of the last sticky threads of webbing still present from their latest encounter with the local wildlife.

Elissa must have commented something in return, for he stopped – a little too abruptly? – looking absolutely tricken, and then turned an impressive shade of red, looking like a sheepish teenager. Templars, it seemed, might not be fazed by abominations, but they would run from beautiful women from fear of embarrassment. Leliana smothered a laugh.


End file.
